"There were five men—Freluchon, Edmond Didier, and two friends of theirs; but there were only four ladies, for I didn't take one; you had refused to sup with me, and what other woman could have taken your place? There were not two like you at the ball—I would lay my life on it! And when one has had the happiness of seeing you——"
"So each of those gentlemen took his mistress?"
"His mistress, if you choose. As for me, I don't call that a mistress; if I had a mistress, I would devote all my thoughts to her, every moment of leisure that I could spare from my toilet-room—I mean my office; I am so confused, so happy with you, that I cannot think of even the most common words."
"Pull yourself together, monsieur; really, I don't see what there is to confuse you."
"You do not see! Ah! madame, if you would but condescend to read in the depths of my heart you would see there the flame which——"
"But the supper! was it very lively? And that flower-maker, that young Amélia, Monsieur Edmond's inamorata—is she as pretty as the portrait he drew of her?"
Chamoureau began to be conscious that the lovely brunette cut him short whenever he attempted to speak of his love for her. These interruptions annoyed him, and he put his left hand behind his back, saying to himself:
"Where in the devil did that split?"
"Well, monsieur, you don't answer. I asked you if that little Amélia seemed to you as piquant as Monsieur Edmond described her?"
"Little Amélia? who is she, madame?"